"I don't see why you and Barry Jukes couldn't get Dad up home with your sled. He'd pay for loss of time if it comes to that. Why not?"
Stenson shook his head. He said the snow was getting soft, and the ground would be much too rough for an injured man. Besides, they'd sold their dogs, and he and Barry didn't "lay-out" to pull such a load added to a camping outfit, because they'd have to make two days, if not three of it.
"You can't go shifting a man in his state," he said, "not without worse to follow. See here, miss, you get your outfit together, and I'll call in for you the third day from now and take you along. You and the boy and the dog--how's that? It won't be for long. Sight of you will mend up that knee fine. Like enough your Dad will make out to come back home with you in ten days or thereabouts, taking it slow and camping. I know you got a hand sled. We can makeshift to load your traps on that. The dog and I can pull and you can take a hand at pushing."
Thus Jan Stenson explained his ideas as he pulled over his parka, dragged on his big fur mitts, and made ready to go out into the dusk.
"When did you say--exactly?" asked Nell.
"Third day from now," he was fastening on his snowshoes in the doorway. "I lay out to make old Ogâ's camp in three hours. I'll get through business to-morrow and come for you morning after. Nine o'clock more or less, we don't want more than one camp--if that."
"All right," agreed Nell, nodding her head, "don't come sooner, because I shan't be ready. There's a lot to do. I can't risk the potatoes freezing--I'll have to put them in fur bags. Well, good night, Mr. Stenson, and thank you for coming."
It was not David's usual habit to remain silent, but he had been so surprised through this queer visit and so entirely astonished at the ending of it that even after the bolt slid into place he only stared at his sister, turning over twenty questions he wanted to ask, but not asking one.
"So that's finished!" said Nell, shutting her teeth together with a snap. Then she threw herself down on the skin rug, leaned her back against the bench, clasped her fingers round her bent knees and concluded, "Now, let me think."
"I wish you weren't always thinking and never saying anything," remarked David. "I want to know about one thousand things, Nell, and you never tell me one! Do you like that chap? I don't, and Robin hates him--bite him, Rob--hey, bite him!"